


Sniper

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was younger they told him that no, he could never be an astronaut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sniper

When he was younger they told him that no, he could never be an astronaut – astronauts needed 20:20 vision. And Chester couldn’t see beyond his nose without his glasses on. His mom led him out of the test centre with a sigh, her arm wrapped tight around his shoulders.

“It’s probably for the best,” she said. “After all; you do get vertigo. And you’re not a fan of flying anyway.”

True. But all Chester knows is that all his friends have been accepted. They’ll be out there with the stars and the planets and the, you know, aliens. And he’ll be going to school with the girls and the handful of boys whose parents wouldn’t let them join.

But now, fifteen years later, now the space corps will employ anybody crazy enough to sign up. There are tests; he has to at least be fit enough to function in space. There are exercise regimes to stick to. There are contracts and release forms to sign.

Everywhere people are panicking, so Chester guesses the war is worse than the watered down version they see on TV. The way the soldiers are acting this has to be a life or death situation. And Chester, he’s all for being a hero.

His job is as a sniper, one of many, and together the snipers sit side by side in the space shuttle. The blast off was horrible and yes, his stomach churned, but he promised himself he’d not throw up inside his fucking helmet. Now, though, they’re sailing through space.

The man beside him is bitching to the man opposite him saying, “I heard we’re gonna be up here for six years, man. Six fucking years! And this ain’t like Iraq – they can’t just ship us home every now and then. We’re fucking stuck up here.”

And the other guy, he’s saying, “So why did you sign up?”

“I’m sick of living off fucking food stamps. You?”

“I’m already part of the space corps.” He says. “I signed up years ago but came home. Not too long ago they called, said they needed me.” He glances at Chester who is sitting in silence. “What about you? How’d you get landed with this shit job?”

Chester blushes, grateful you can barely see anything through the helmet from the outside. “I uh, I just…wanted to be here.”

The guy opposite, his suit has his surname stitched onto it just like everybody else’s. His name is Delson. And Delson laughs, “Another space hero, huh?”

And Chester ducks his head.

“Okay shit heads listen up.” Their sergeant snaps, his voice echoing through the speakers inside Chester’s helmet like a gun shot through an empty room. “We’re coming up to the pods soon. One by one you’ll leave the ship and enter the pod. Once inside make sure the airlock is tightly sealed or you’ll literally freeze your balls off. And die, too.”

Delson pipes up, “We’re on our own?”

“What the fuck did you think we meant by sniper. You’ll operate your ship by yourself. Training will have taught you how. And if you didn’t pay attention then tough fucking shit.”

“And what are we supposed to be doing?”

The sergeant glares at Delson, angrily, “You’re supposed to keep an eye out for ships crossing the belt. If they aren’t friendly then you blow them to bits. The AI in each pod will make sure there’s no friendly fire. Okay, dickwad?”

Chester sits in silence, his heart beating hard in his chest. He’d never thought he’d be alone. And not for six years. Being on your own is a lot of responsibility, and after barely a month of training Chester isn’t sure if he can do this.

But in his head his mom’s voice echoes, “My son,” she beams proudly, “my son the astronaut.”

Fuck.

One by one the astronauts leave the ship for their pods. It takes hours but eventually only Chester and this Delson guy are left.

Then the sergeant gets up, “Delson. You’re up.”

“Guess I’ll see you in six years, then.” Chester says and Delson laughs.

“Yeah.” He says. “Sure.”

And then he’s gone, dropping out of the hatch and away.

***

The pods. Jesus. They’re aptly named. There is a tiny cot to sleep in with tiny bathroom cubicle beside it, an almost-kitchen and then the control desk. Chester takes off his helmet and takes a deep breath.

“Welcome aboard,” a computerised voice chirps from the control desk. “My name is Bert.”

Chester laughs, “Bert?”

“Yes. I’m here to assist you throughout your mission.”

“My mission? My mission to sit here and rot?”

“Your mission is to protect the Earth from enemy ships. The USA and the world are depending on you.”

But Chester knows that nobody even has any idea he’s out here.

For hours he sits at the control desk doing nothing. Daydreaming, mostly, about home. He wonders how he ever thought being an astronaut would be better than being in college, getting a stable job and settling down.

It’s funny the things you miss when you’re stuck with powdered and concentrated food to eat. Like the smell of his mom’s cooking when he’d go over for dinner. Her homemade cheesecake that beat the shit out of every other cheesecake on the planet.

Bert says, “The US space corps recommend communication.”

“With a computer?”

“I am an artificial intelligence system. I am part of the most advanced technology the army owns and can fully interact with humans, should they wish to talk to me.”

“Either way,” Chester says, “the key word in that sentence is artificial.”

“Is this experience not how you anticipated, Bennington?”

“No.” Chester says. “It’s not.”

***

The snipers work in shifts, so Chester gets to sleep at sixteen hundred hours until zero hundred hours. Eight hours, says Bert, is the recommended sleep allowance. Whatever. Going to sleep at four in the fucking afternoon kills Chester, but he does it. Then he gets up and stares out of the window at the vacuum of space all around him.

***

Years pass. Loneliness isn’t something Chester is used to. And, even with Bert the computer to keep him…company, he is going crazy. He wants to know - is his family okay?

Is the war on Earth over yet?

Am I the only one still out here?

***

An enemy ship shows up on his radar one day and Bert wakes him up. Groggily Chester takes his seat at the control desk, waits for the ship to come within the radius of his guns.

“You’re getting good at this.” Bert says.

Chester narrows his eyes, aims, “I should fucking hope so,” he says.

Pushes the launch button before the ship can open fire on him. It takes a couple of shots for the whole thing to go down and when it does it looks like a falling star. In a million years the people of Earth will see it and some kid in Arizona with bad eyesight and no friends will make a wish on it. He’ll wish to be an astronaut, just like his daddy was.

And it’ll never occur to him – daddy never came back, and neither will he.

***

The loneliness crawls under his skin like a parasite. He can’t focus. Not on the stars. Not on making sure he sleeps at the correct time. Enemy ships, they sail right across the belt and Chester waits. In the distance he can see them explode, shot down by another sniper.

At least he knows he isn’t totally alone.

Might as well be, though. And one day he says, “Bert?”

“Yes?”

“What would happen if an enemy ship saw me? If they locked on?”

Bert says nothing for a while. The hum of the control desk and the bleep of the radar. Then, “You’d retaliate.”

“Yeah,” Chester says. “But what if I didn’t?”

“The pods were not created to withstand heavy fire. It’d suffer great damage if they hit you, if you didn’t defend yourself.”

“And I’d die, right?”

“It is a possibility.”

Two years down, four to go.

Chester can’t take this anymore.

He waits until an enemy ship crosses the belt then shoots at them once, twice.

Then. Turns off the guns.

The ship locks onto him and fires.

And Chester’s pod goes down, burning like a shooting star.

And millions of years later somebody looks up and sees the streak of light across the night star.

Makes a wish.


End file.
